Gerard is boiling water and noodles in the kitchen, sipping furtively at a bottle of whiskey and idly wondering if he could trust Frank to watch over the pasta so that he could run out to grab a baguette to add to their meal, when he hears the crash, the squeak, and the thud that follows shortly.

“Frank! I swear if you’ve broken another lamp I’m gonna start charging you!” The laugh he’s barely suppressing is swallowed as he enters the living room; the sight of Frank pressing his back against the wall, cornering himself into the room, eyes wide and staring and terrified. The lamp is shattered across the hardwood, jagged pieces scattered and glinting in the afternoon light escaping the half open blinds and Gerard fleetingly considers that perhaps Frank is afraid of him, before realizing that Frank is staring straight ahead, eyes seeing something invisible to the older man.

“Frank?” Voice low, soft, soothing, Gerard tries to gage how to help the little angel-boy who’s shaking now, little vibrations reverberating through little bones, shaking a too small body that just can’t seem to hold any weight despite the amount of food he consumes. Frank’s still staring though. Gerard doesn’t know what to do, isn’t sure how to deal with this situation, isn’t even certain what the situation is.

“Come on Frank, please, what’s going on buddy? Are you okay? Are you hurt? I’m not mad about the lamp, okay? We’ll go pick out a new one, maybe plastic this time.” He knows he’s rambling, running all his words together but Frank’s still staring straight ahead, eyes widening still, fear written across his features. And still, he doesn’t look or acknowledge Gerard.

“Please Frank! Tell me what to do!” The helplessness of watching is driving Gerard close to the edge, can feel himself teetering on the cusp of desperation as the boy-angel titters nervously in the corner of the room, eyes wide and terrified, whole body quaking with a ferocity that has Gerard biting on the corner of his lip in concern.

Frank’s chest is heaving, breath barely exhaled before he’s gasping for the next, eyes darting around the room now, a pattern that Gerard can’t follow; doesn’t even know what the angel’s looking at or for because there’s nothing in the apartment that Gerard can see, but he knows he’s never been more terrified for himself or anyone else in his whole life.

Gerard doesn’t know what to do or how to help Frank but he thinks that maybe getting out of the apartment might be best so he’s approaching Frank as quickly as he can, gently grasping his arm before pulling him away from the corner but Frank’s still not paying him any attention, eyes wild and fearful and watching. And then his thin fingers are wrapping around Gerard’s wrist instead, pulling until it’s painful, too much speed and Gerard is tripping over his own feet and still Frank’s pulling, heedless to Gerard, pulling.

They’re out the door and passing the elevator until Frank’s pulling them both too quickly down the stairs and Gerard’s sure they’re going to stumble and break both of their necks; somehow Frank keeps both of them upright and they’re passing the main lobby and going deeper until they reach a door that reads ‘Basement’. There’s barely enough time to read it because Gerard didn’t even know his building had one before Frank’s pulling them through that door too, eyes searching swiftly around the room, releasing Gerard long enough to rush around the room, eyes looking wilder by the second. The small angel-boy is pushing a chair beneath the handle of the door before Gerard has enough sense to regain his voice.

“Frank! What the fuck is going on? You’re scaring the shit out of me!” His voice is too high, the pitch all wrong, can’t stop the tremble at the end but the boy is finally looking at him; Gerard can’t help thinking that Frank seems to be glowing a bit in the din of the basement and how he just wants to wrap his arms around the boy whose still trembling with those too wide eyes and bright skin.

Gerard knows that Frank is terrified out of his mind, can feel the fear coming off the boy in waves; he wants to be brave, wants to chase away whatever is scaring Frank, but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to fight against, isn’t sure he’s going to be able to fight against something that he can’t see, so he waits for some sort of explanation, pleading with his eyes, fingers rubbing comfortingly against the boys thin arms.

Wrapping his fingers once again around Gerard’s wrist, he’s pulling the older boy into the corner of the room until they are half hidden behind some storage; Frank checks around the room once more, eyes swiftly checking every corner in the semi-darkness, listening intently for a moment more before seating himself against the wall, pulling Gerard with him.

Gerard’s barely seated before Frank’s on his knees, green eyes searching his face, skeleton fingers following his eyes as though ensuring Gerard is unscathed; the boys brows are furrowed as he continues his inspection and Gerard is too shocked by the tingling beneath his skin at the boys touch to fully comprehend or question the action. Finally, seeming satisfied that Gerard is unharmed Frank resumes his seat, gaze never leaving the dark haired artists face. Both boys are begging and pleading and questioning, neither saying a word and the silence is eating them alive in the darkness of the basement.

There’s hesitation written on the young angel’s face as he bites on the corner of his bottom lip, pulling and tearing at the red skin before trembling hands are reaching forwards, stopping just short of touching, pausing mid air before searching the older boys eyes for permission that’s granted immediately without knowing what is being requested.

Gerard knows the feel of Frank’s skin, relishes in it, has had more dreams about the experience than he would ever admit to anyone, but he’s completely unprepared when the boy-angel’s fingertips gently press into his temples, ill-equipped to deal with the jolt of electricity and the flash of his own face before his eyes and he’s throwing himself back against the wall, the concrete cool and tangible as he watches the hurt and apology in Frank’s eyes.

“W-What was that?” Gerard has a good idea, can make a guess at the very least but his brain is telling him that it’s impossible and that this is yet another indication that he is in fact losing his mind.

Frank’s Adams apple bobs nervously against his glimmering skin, distracting Gerard momentarily, before he’s shaking his dark hair out of his eyes, reprimanding himself and taking a deep breath, readdressing the trembling boy before him.

“Sorry…I uh…can we try again?” Frank’s apologizing with his eyes, begging and pleading, and his fingers are lifting once again to press against Gerard’s clammy skin, cool and shaking and luminous.

At his touch Gerard is powerless to stop the small gasp, his own body betraying him in the small tremble, senses heightened in the enclosed semi-darkness with the resplendent angel-boy whose almost enough to distract him from what they’re doing and the reason they are currently locked in the basement of his apartment building.
Frank’s staring at him, uncertainty swimming in his eyes with something that looks like worry and adoration, and Gerard’s closing his eyes because staring at the boy for too long isn’t going to make this easier.

There’s only darkness against the lids of his eyes for a moment and the bright flash of color blinds him, startles him enough to jerk instinctively back before the color is molding itself, flowing and stretching and shaping itself until Gerard recognizes his own face, his body coming slowly into focus and then Frank standing beside the picture of himself, face shining and smiling.

The colors are rearranging themselves once again, creating new pictures, faces he doesn’t recognize, though there is a quality about that them that seems familiar. They’re all dressed in whites, suits of the brightest white Gerard’s ever seen and that seems strange enough that he’s sidetracked for a moment, just observing the system of their movements, the fact that they’re sitting in a small circle, gesturing with hands and skin that’s bright and known and their lips are moving, forming words that he can’t hear; sound emerges slowly, like the dial is being turned up on a radio, and he can make out the words they’re uttering.

“He knows Sariel. We need to take action.” The dark haired man thumps his fist against the table separating them to accentuate his point, his eyes dark and incensed, staring down each of the men seated at the table, before settling once more on the man he first addressed.

“Hamaliel, bring to an end this rashness! Can you not see his logic?” Gerard is sure he can physically feel the fire of the glare that the dark haired man sends to the blonde who is gaping desperately, pleading with the group as Gerard gazes just as intently, unsure what he is witnessing, not comprehending the magnitude of the men before him or the situation which they discuss.

“Anael, your judgment is defect. You cannot stand before this counsel and claim impartiality!” The dark haired man seems to growl in the brightness of the room and Gerard can’t help the small shiver that runs down his spine at the tension that crackles like lightening as the two men glower across the table.

“Enough!” The man who was first addressed, Sariel, finally thunders and both men immediately lower their gaze. “It is my decision, and mine alone, what is to be done with Francis. Call him forth.” Gerard’s breath catches in his throat, constricted and tight at the sight of the petite boy walking through the dark doors he had not taken notice of before.

*
Answers are starting to unfold now - please rate and review!!!

10 points to anyone who can make the connection to the names and who/what they are.

Hopefully next chapter will be up before the end of the week!! (Reviews make me write faster!)